Finley’s Legacy
The video below chronicles the life of a very special American Kestrel.
It was shown at the Sedona Film Festival Theatres during our Kestrels in Love event that paid tribute to him and introduced his successor, Lennox.
Finley weighed only 130g but he thought he was as big as an eagle. …and in some aspects he was.
He lived a life larger than most and left his mark on many hearts.
He left us too soon and his absence has proven to be devastating. I struggled to find a silver lining or meaning from his death; it was just so senseless. However, this tragedy did leave me one gift. The gift that revealed the impact he had on the world.
Finley died February 26 from complications of a sarcoma on his right wing. For the whole story, scroll to the bottom of this page. Diagnosed February 14th, he was prepared for emergency surgery but the mass was too big for surgery due to lack of skin needed to close after removal. His only options were euthanasia or radiation. I nearly pulled the trigger for euthanasia due to the cost of the radiation treatment.
At $12K, I thought there was no way. Dr. Scagnelli (his vet) asked if I thought I could raise that. I literally said, “no one cares” but something told me don’t give up.
As Finley’s fight for life began; he remained blissfully unaware of his terminal diagnosis and relished in all the undivided attention. By the end of day one after talking to his oncologist, Dr. Scagnelli had managed to get the cost to $5500 and she would donate her services required during the CT Scan and radiation treatment. Euthanasia was then taken off the table and no longer an option.
Over the next several days, donations came pouring in; it was mind blowing for me! At the news of Finley’s fight for life, not only were donations coming in but massive amounts of short impact stories from people he had touched in his short four and a half years. I heard stories that meeting Finley was the highlight of their life, or every time they see a kestrel they exclaim, “look it’s Finley!” or that his videos are their favorite, or…the stories were endless.
A 13-year-old boy donated half his savings to save Finley’s life. Kestrels are his favorite bird and he was obsessed with Finely. He cried when he got to meet Finely in person for his birthday. He once told his mother that when Finely was born he only weighed this much, as he gave her 11 paper clips after watching a Finely video.
Upon hearing the news of Finley’s death, a well-known artist that was enamored with his videos on social media, was so moved she wanted to do a painting of Finley. I now have an original oil painting of Finley using my favorite photo of Finley in flight taken by Ted Grussing (the photo above). He loved Finley and was a part of his shows at the Mary Fisher Theater.
These stories were many and diverse but all said the same, he made a huge impact on people’s lives; by those that knew him and those that knew him only through social media. I had no idea! Obviously I had hoped we were making a difference. During his too short time with us, Finley reached thousands of people and sat on the hand of hundreds of children but when I said “no one cares” I really believed it.
The past 3 years have been incredibly stressful, at times I wondered what was the point, why am I putting myself through this and nearly giving up countless times. Starting and growing a nonprofit is not for sissies! Finley’s death showed me that people are listening, watching and do care. His short life proved he was making an impact on the world and truly contributing to raptor conservation.
I sure hope he knew that.
Keep scrolling to read the full account of his last weeks with us.
On February 14, 2022, Finley was diagnosed with a sarcoma on his right wing/elbow.
It could not be removed surgically due the location and its size. There is not enough skin to close up after removing it.
Finley died on February 26, 2022 due to blood loss secondary to complications from a sarcoma on his right wing/elbow. He was scheduled to have radiation treatment on March 7th and it was expected to give him a good prognosis following treatment. However, the angels wanted him more I suppose.
He died in my arms while racing to the vet to receive a blood transfusion. He had started to decline February 22nd in the afternoon, and went back to the vet on February 24th. It was determined that he was dangerously anemic due to blood loss. Kestrels have a small blood volume overall and can lose only about 1 ml safely but he apparently lost more and coupled with the tumor drainage. The blood loss occurred during his last big tantrum (February 17th) that lasted into the early morning until I gave in, only to discover that he banged up the tumor on his wing causing it to bleed. Which is how, we (me and Dr. Scagnelli) believe, he got the sarcoma in the first place. They are often from old injuries that create abnormal cell growth; and I found it in the medical literature as well.
On February 24th, he was given fluids, iron and vitamin A, C, D and B-complex injections. He was creating lots of new red blood cells but just not fast enough apparently. We talked about the blood transfusion then but felt it might be too risky due to his size and the risk of anaphylactic shock. On February 24th night he ate a full crop of quail. I thought he would be good to go but the next morning, he was still not recovering. He stopped eating as well and for a bird that small, it is just lethal. Consulted with Dr. Scagnelli all day...the 3-hour drive to the vet and stress was a huge factor in decisions. This is why one of IRFC's major goals is bringing avian medicine to Northern AZ.
We had hoped his body would regenerate blood cells and he would eat. Spending what little energy he had left on the drive and vet might have been too much...maybe we made the wrong call.
By February 26th. morning, he was unable to really stand and then he had what appeared to be a seizure followed by agonal breathing, which is an autonomic reflex the body does to maintain oxygen. This was probably a stroke due to lack of blood to the brain. I thought this was it. So I held him, and told him it was ok for him to go and telling him I loved him repeatedly for several minutes. But he was still trying to fight, so I called Dr. Scagnelli again and said 'we need to either throw in everything AND the kitchen sink or end this suffering now.'
When we left the house with him cradled in my arm, the decision was to fight like hell. However, if he didn't make the trip, I did not want him to die alone in his transport carrier. Then with one hand on the wheel and him held up against my chest, I drove the 3 hours at no less than 90-95mph the entire way to the vet. Not wanting to take my eyes off the road, I never looked down at him but I knew he felt different. Still never looking down, as a former paramedic I was in a familiar zone, lifesaving zone. We pulled up to the clinic, rushed him to the back where his medical team was waiting full stop ready to save him. I handed my little lifeless Finley to them but as I was falling to pieces from holding it together for 2 weeks, Dr. Scagnelli told me he had already gone. I think he died about an hour away, that was the point I could feel something was different.
His treatment would have started two days later.
He died doing one of his favorite things, being up front in the car helping me drive. Those were the times he would throw the biggest tantrums. On long car trips he would get bored and since he knew he always rode shotgun, he would bang on his door to get my attention and get on my nerves enough that I would give in and let him out. Or he would do it when he was done waiting for his turn to be flown during grasshopper hunting season. He really never did it at night until the night I brought him home after his diagnosis on Valentine’s Day; not sure why but it was the most extreme example of separation anxiety I have ever experienced.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think or know he was beating up his wings. I always thought it was his feet because when I opened the door that's what I saw. Obviously, the night he bloody himself, he never spent another night in there. He spent 24/7 with me just as he demanded and deserved. Maybe he knew something that I didn't or just wanted consolation from me.
And never in my wildest dreams did I think his bond with me would be what would ultimately kill him. He has been like that since he was a baby. It wasn't always motivated by food or breeding (he was an imprint) but he just hated being separated from me. When he was a baby and still free lofting in my bedroom, he would wait by the door for me to come back.
I would give anything to see those feet again.
And then peeked under the door when I asked him what he was doing.
I will have to rethink my response to "do raptors have affection/my birds love me?" I always answered that “they do but not like we do. They have preferred people and we are food and/or potential mates if imprinted” but Finley just always wanted to sit on my knee or be near me regardless of nesting season or if he was hungry. All my birds are excited to see me when I get home, but he was always the most excited and would call for me if I didn't greet him fast enough. Was this a capacity to show love? Maybe. I do know that I loved him intensely and miss him terribly. He was my spoiled baby boy and it is awfully quiet now.
Because of the support he received from donors, I was able to tell Dr. Scagnelli to do whatever is necessary to make him better and didn't have to consider euthanasia due to funding issues. Avian medicine is a true specialty and comes with a heavy price tag. He would have been through his treatment by now and the funding would have made it a reality.
At some point, the Flying Team will have another male kestrel but for now it just wouldn't be fair because the new kestrel would always live in Finley's shadow. And honestly, flying these little falcons is just too stressful and got to the point it wasn't fun. Finley had like 9+ lives and got himself into and out of many dangerous situations; the biggest was when he was grabbed and carried off screaming by a Cooper's Hawk during Thanksgiving week in 2020. My heart just needs a break. We do still have Aylen, our female American Kestrel who is sweet and ridiculously cute; she just isn’t as comfortable in her job as Finley was. He was really a born celebrity. I can see why people make deals with the devil because I would sell my soul to have my baby boy back.
Finley means "Fighter" in Gaelic. I reached out for help funding his treatment ($5500) and never have I witnessed a group of people (over 70) come together so quickly (1 week) to save the life of a little bossy falcon that only weighed no more than 6 sugar cookies.
I also had no idea the impact he made on so many of those that knew him; and some that never met him. I sure hope he knew that but suspect I was the only one that didn't.
I love you Finley and will miss you forever.